


Corned Beef on Rye, Hold the Bullshit

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Punisher (Comics), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Complicated Relationships, Gen, M/M, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 12:03:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: David's life has become increasingly complex. Given that his best paying customer is a crime lord and he seems to be the go-to mechanic for half the augmented vigilantes in New York, that sort should go without saying, but David would really appreciate a chance to say it anyway.





	Corned Beef on Rye, Hold the Bullshit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psychedelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelia/gifts), [kokopellifacetattoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokopellifacetattoo/gifts).

When David put his first ad up on The Backlot, a discrete site that brought modders and their clients together without the risk of meeting physically, he knew that he was technically signing up for a life that flirted regularly with danger. He was, by technicality, committing a crime just by building some of the augments he’d drafted, much less installing them. He had to steal things, occasionally, though in his opinion stealing from bloated corporations that never missed most of the shit he was after anyway hardly counted. 

And still, he’d never imagined there’d come a point where he had not just a criminal or a gangster sitting in his chair, but the fucking Kingpin. The criminal mastermind, the man behind a criminal network that spread from his offices in the heart of the city to the far reaches of the world. A dangerous man -- a man with massive trust issues, a horrible body guard, and a fuckton of money. 

This was not where David had planned on steering his life. This was not what he dreamed of as he clawed his way through school. 

If he's honest, he's about half as altruistic as guys like Frank seem to expect him to be. Maybe more so _ for _Frank because David's got a ridiculous, stupid soft spot for him. But that soft spot was why Frank trusted him, which would be nice, except Frank trusting him, through a series of happenstance and weird networking, had led to this, which was David trying not to squirm under the glare he always got from the Kingpin's bodyguard-cum-boyfriend, the robot Bullseye. Bullseye would glower at him the entire time David was working, except Matthew, the Kingpin himself had started sending Bullseye to get him food for when he woke up post surgery.

Normally David would have Opinions about anyone coming into his shop with the kind of hostility Bullseye generally showed him, but you really didn't make waves with people who paid this kind of money, so David learned to keep himself still and wait patiently for Matthew to finish his order -- which was almost always the exact same fucking thing, but by this point David figures the Kingpin probably likes the sound of his own voice, and he's not exactly going to rush him -- until Bullseye left and he could get to work.

There was a point where David had entertained the notion that Matthew wasn't who he claimed to be. A dangerous guy, sure, maybe, built in the spitting image of David's best friend's law partner, and so kind of freaky and mysterious, but no way was he really the Kingpin. Why would the Kingpin come here? 

Then the money had shown up. 

Now, this is -- well David wouldn't call it normal. What the fuck is _ normal_, that's a concept that hasn't done so much as nod David's way for years. It's not normal but it's _ routine _and routine is close enough. Bullseye leaves, David and Matthew do another brief overview of the work David would be doing, David sets Matthew to stasis, and gets to work. 

Routine. Fucking peachy.

At least, since Matthew prefers his work done while powered down, David doesn't have to deal with anyone snarling or snarking at him while he works. No dark looks, no growling threats, no bitchy aloof attitude. Powered down, Matthew is just another body he's taking apart to make better, and David can groove with that, he's perfectly okay with it. This is what he does best, he's good at it, fast and accurate and he loves the complicated jobs because they're unique, fascinating puzzles. 

Who's got time to worry about the morality of working on structural reinforcements and augmented upgrades for a man who essentially runs a good chunk of the criminal underground when there's _ puzzles _to solve.

He's lost in one of those puzzles, marveling at the sheer mess of wiring in Matthew's abdominal cavity -- a lot of redundancies and should he talk about skinnying some of that up or is it better to have everything running in triplicate just in case one system fails? -- when he hears heavy footsteps on the stairs leading into the lab. Familiar gait, too heavy and slow to be the menacing, graceful motion with which Bullseye moved.

"Jesus Christ," he grumbles under his breath, eyes on his work, both hands wet with fluid as he works on the last necessary steps of the requested upgrade. He can hear Frank pause on the last stair, looking into the room, watching, putting his own puzzle in order. And he can feels from here, Frank working himself up to start shouting.

Before Frank can lay into it, he looks up, hands continuing to move without his needing to look, and cuts the vigilante off with a glance. Frank's got a bag from the deli they both like from up the block in one hand, and David curses himself for forgetting Frank'd been talking about wanting to discuss something about a case he was working and how David could help this week.

It's hard to remember when David's personal schedule has become a whole lot of question marks and code names.

"Don't you fucking dare," David says, keeping his voice low and steady. "You don't get to bitch about this."

Really, he kind of gets the upset. Talking about factions, David supposes Frank and Matthew are definitely enemies, probably always at odds. However, David's kept this whole thing under his hat long enough, wondering how long he'd have to, wondering if it was even necessary. Marc knows -- Marc's the one who brought the Kingpin here. If Marc knows, David half expects Frank to know.

Judging by the pissy look on his face as Frank steps the rest of the way into the lab, David's assuming no. Marc must have had better luck separating those facets of his life.

Matthew's not going anywhere, and as soon as David can step away from him without risking him crashing, he does. He holds his hands out a little ways in front of himself, because they're slick and gross with fluid and he hadn't put on an apron because he forgot.

He backs Frank into a corner while Frank's still trying to work out how he wants to blow up over this. "Quit giving me that fucking look," David says and Frank finally drops the angry expression, only to pull up the hurt one. David refuses to feel anything. "That one too. What the fuck did you expect when you came here?"

"The _ Kingpin_," Frank asks, brows drawn together. "He's --"

"Making sure the lights stay on here?" David cuts him off. They're both whispering, but it feels like yelling. "Actually paying me real money so I can keep buying meds and trauma kits and tools to keep you functional? This is business, Frank, what the hell did you think was going to happen when you started dragging your vigilante friends here for work?"

Frank shoves David's shoulder, pushes him against the wall, and it would be intimidating if David wasn't so used to Frank's body language. He's using his human hand, he's moderating his strength. "I expected you to keep doing good work for good men! Not a monster --"

"Uh-uh!" David hisses back, and when he pushes back against Frank's chest, he leaves a dark print behind, sticky pseudo-blood in the perfect shape of his left hand. "You come in and need help, I help you. You keep coming back, god help me, I keep helping you. You can barely pay, you're surly, you're rude, and then you start dragging other charity cases in. Well guess what, _ honey _ \--" he spits the pet name with quiet venom, and enjoys the way Frank flinches from it, "-- That guy over there? He's _ Marc’s _ boyfriend. You know, Marc, the special ops guy you dragged in and I helped get back online? The guy who you fuck on the regular? Yeah, _ that _Marc. And he sent Matthew to me, and I'm not going to fuck this up! Marc told him he could trust me, and I'm not fucking that up because who the hell knows how many people get hurt when I fuck this up."

He's shaking a little. Neither of them have raised their voice, but this is still the closest to an actual screaming match they've had in -- well, probably ever. Frank's eyes are comically wide over it, and really, David feels better having some of it out of him. He clears his throat, straightens his spine, and gives Frank a look. 

"I know you came to talk about work shit. I will be with you as soon as he's gone. Okay?"

And there is, against David's will, a sliver of guilt in the way Frank looks down at the bag in his hand and clutches the rolled top. Part of David expects Frank to shove the bag at him or drop it on the floor or throw it, expects him to have a tempter fit and make this easy on David by being an asshole about it. Quiet, contrite understanding makes David feel like a bitch, and more of one for the fact that he's halfway convinced this is a calculated act to get him feeling bad before Frank says his piece later. 

Frank is, after all, a pretty fair tactician. 

"Go sit on the couch in the back. His body guard's gonna be back soon and he's creepy enough without you here to pick a fight."

Wonder upon wonders, Frank just nods. "I got you that corned beef you like," He says, and David presses his lips together because he _ knows _a guilt trip building when he hears one. "Should I put 'em in the fridge or will you be done soon?"

The real hell of David's situation is that this never ends. He'd love to look forward to a nice lunch date with the meathead idiot client he's somehow ended up sleeping with, but he knows at this point it's going to be half work and half trying to guilt David over doing his job. Frank doesn't know a ton about how the business works because it doesn't matter to him as long as David's doors are open. He doesn't know how David struggled for the first few months when Frank first showed up, he doesn't know what goes into making sure everything runs smoothly. He knows David steals money from shady places, but he doesn't get that there has to be traceable, reasonably clean money coming into the shop to launder all the shit he steals. 

He's an idiot, and selfish, and completely ungrateful for the things he doesn't understand. 

David sighs. Bullseye will be back soon, and he's nearly done getting everything back in order anyway. "I'll be back to do lunch in half an hour, tops. Take a nap or something, you look cranky. I've got work to finish."


End file.
